His Last Farewell
by TheSpectrumSings
Summary: He wasn't sure how to say good-bye to Molly Hooper. He knew he would miss her- he had long since accepted the fact that Molly counted, so naturally he felt compelled to warn her that he was leaving for mission in Eastern Europe. He just wasn't sure how. One-Shot. Sequel: The Reaction to the Reprieve- Sherlock tells Molly he is not dead.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.**

**I shouldn't really have written this. I should be writing the new project that I've started, but I was in the back of my head, and it wouldn't leave me alone :)**

* * *

He wasn't sure how to say good-bye to Molly Hooper.  
He knew he would miss her- he had long since accepted the fact that Molly counted, so naturally he felt compelled to warn her that he was leaving for mission in Eastern Europe. He just wasn't sure how. He knew Mycroft had arranged for him to be seen off by John and Mary just before he boarded the plane, but he knew it would be his responsibility to tell Molly.

He could just walk into Bart's and casually tell her, and act like he would be back after 6 months, like he acted with John. He wasn't certain how much John believed him, but he knew that telling John the whole truth would break him all over again, and that could't happen, especially with an impending Baby Watson.

He had told Lestrade outright, without any economy when it came to the truth. He had informed him that he could no longer help with investigations, the fact that he was off on a mission for his brother, and that he wouldn't come back.  
Lestrade had enveloped him in a manly hug, much like the one that had been bestowed on him when he had first revealed to Gavin that he was back from the dead.

Mrs Hudson knew he was going for 6 months, but he wouldn't tell her the rest. Sherlock thought it wasn't necessary to worry her. He would say good-bye when just before he was collected for the plane, and that would be that.

His parent were similar. He was to tell them he would be gone in penance for killing Magnussen, and that he would return in 6 months. Mycroft had offered to tell them the news of his death when it came, which Sherlock appreciated, mostly. He appreciated the difficulty of the task, anyway.

But it was Molly Hooper who was the puzzle. He could slip he a note, or a text, but he dismissed that quickly. She was worth more that that, even he knew.  
She counted more than that. He knew casually mentioning it was out too because, that could hurt her, making her think he didn't care about her reaction.  
He felt he ought to tell her the whole truth. She had mattered most, after all, when he had had to commit fake suicide. He also knew that if he told her she would be discreet about it until the news of his death was revealed.

And so it was that Sherlock Holmes decided he would visit Molly Hooper, on January 15th, at 4pm at her flat, where he would tell her the whole truth.

* * *

You could describe Molly as surprised, when she opened the door to reveal the World's Only Consulting Detective. She was surprised but not annoyed.  
Molly had seen less and less of Sherlock lately. He hadn't been in the lab since before Christmas, where he had been collecting the components of a sedative, goodness knows why.

The whole country knew that Magnussen had been shot by Sherlock. It wasn't a secret. But Molly was now wondering what the consquences would be. It had been nearly 3 weeks since the incident on Christmas day, and by now she had assumed Mycroft had simply pulled enough strings to allow Sherlock to get off. She was about to find out how wrong she was.

"Hello, Sherlock. What's up?" She asked, leaning against the doorway. She knew that Sherlock Holmes would not turn up for a friendly visit.

He hesitated, before motioning as to whether or not he could go through into her flat.  
She nodded, faintly shocked.  
_Sherlock had __**asked **__permission to enter? That was __**not**__ normal. He usually would just barge in, expecting her to be fine with it. Something must be wrong. _Molly thought before moving out of the doorway, and following Sherlock through into her living room.

Sherlock looked distastefully around her apartment and at her cat, Toby, who was curled on her sofa, before settling his gaze back on her.

"Molly." He began, his eyes not shifting from her's.  
"I felt I had to come and tell you in person, because this is important, and so are you." He told her. His tone was emotionless, like he was remarking on the weather, but his eyes were concerned, and Molly knew, that with Sherlock, it was currently the meaning of the words that counted.

"I am being sent away, to Eastern Europe, on a job for my brother. The job will last for 6 months. It is a form of exile, really. For putting an end to Magnussen's reign of terror, as it were."  
He flashed he quick smile, to show he was joking, but it did not reach his eyes. Molly didn't react to the smile. She was thinking about Sherlock not being around for 6 months.  
He would miss John and Mary's baby's first few months, and Molly would miss him, not coming and messing up the lab with strange experiments, every few days.

"Oh, I thought-" She began to reply, but was cut off.

"Wait, please. I have to tell you more." He cleared his throat, and looked down towards his feet, uncomfortable with the next words.  
"The job will only last 6 months, before I am killed. Or, at the very least, captured. So Mycroft has told me, and he hasn't been wrong before. I am leaving tomorrow, so I had to tell you now."  
Sherlock didn't dare look back up to see Molly's reaction. He wasn't sure how he would deal with it. Human emotion wasn't his forte, and he didn't think he could deal with the tears of a crying Molly Hooper.

"Oh." Was all she uttered. He glanced up. Her face was devoid of any emotion, but he could see her mind whirring.

"Are you sure you have to go?" He voice was quite, and Sherlock could hear it wobble towards the end.

"Yes, yes. I'm sure. It's not the sort of job offer I can refuse." he dismissed, impatiently.

"I'll miss you." She offered next.  
Molly knew the realization hadn't hit her properly yet. When it did she knew she would cry, over the loss of the heartless detective who wasn't actually dead yet, but for now she held it together, if only to prove that she could.

"Yes." He agreed with her. "You will. And I suppose, Molly Hooper, that I-I will... I will miss you too."  
A small, uncontrollable tear slid down her cheek. He leaned forwards, and brushed it away.

"I will miss you so much, Miss Molly Hooper, because you do count, so much more than anyone would think."

He reached down, picked up her hand and raised it his lips, lingering for only a second.

He whispered "Goodbye." To her, for what they both thought they knew would be the last time, before disappearing, from her flat.


End file.
